


He Loves Me

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker does some <i>renovating</i> in the city that Bruce isn't so fond of, so he tries to charm his way back to the Bat's good side. If there is one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Loves Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyVandaele](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LadyVandaele).



> LadyVandaele gave me a request/prompt on tumblr with the Joker playing "he loves me" with a flower...or a body. I came up with this little ficlit.  
> As always, I worked with the New 52 Joker for her! It's a nice change of pace, honestly.

Bruce stares out at the mess that was once half a city block. The buildings have been blown apart, even the sidewalks and roads damaged. Hanging out of a broken window is a severed arm, covered in ash and soot. Bruce walks carefully around it, hating the silence that has fallen. In the distance is the wail of sirens and screams, but the street is blocked off. It’s just him-

And the madman.

He can see him, a lean shape sitting on the trunk of a car, one leg wiggling to some soundless tune in his head. Bruce grits his teeth as he approaches, moving slowly because he _knows_ what will happen if he charges at the Joker. There will be a trap, a gag, or his face will meet the trunk. None of those sound particularly pleasing.

“Ah, lambchop!” he calls, waving as if Bruce is an old friend he’s been expecting. Bruce supposes in some sort of sick way, he _is_. “Come closer,” the Joker says, tilting his hear so his mess of green hair slips to one side. His face slips as well, and he lifts one gloves hand to help push the severed skin by his forehead up. Bruce tastes bile at the back of his throat, and tries to forget he saw it.

The Joker had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his jumpsuit, leaving the dusty fabric to flop openly around marble white skin. Bruce wasn’t sure why he noticed, why he let his eyes take one glance, before looking up at that _face_.

“Like what I’ve done with the place?” the Joker asks, stretching his arms out and gesturing to the crumbling buildings around him. “This part of the city is so _drab_ , it needed some, ah, renovating.”

“Think how many people you killed,” Bruce spat, because that was what mattered. That was what always mattered. The Joker waved him off, hopping off the car and sauntering over, a sway in his hips that jostles the work belt at his waist, the movement and sound drawing Bruce’s eyes. He doesn’t know why.

“With any home improvements come _pest control_ ,” he said, his tongue flciking out, touching dead lips. “You won’t miss them. Their little scurrying footsteps at night were keeping me up, darling.”

Bruce gritted his teeth, lost it then. He slung his fist out, aiming for the Joker’s jaw. The man leaned back, grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, Bruce losing his footing. “Ah ah ah,” he tsked, “no hitting this early in the date, Bats. Be a good man and buy me a few drinks first.”

He releases him and scurries away, up onto the broken sidewalk, surveying his work. Bruce can see the joy in his eyes at so much destruction. He stops at what was once a small flower shop, picking up a bright yellow tulip that hadn’t been scalded.

“He loves me,” he said, plucking one out, “he loves me not.” He kept walking, and Bruce had no choice but to follow him and the petals. “He loves me!” He cooed, looking back at winking at Bruce, before plucking another one with a frown, “he loves me not.”

The man finally stopped by some rubble, leaning against it, chanting until the flower was almost bare. “He loves me. He loves me not.”

He tore the last petal off, dropping it with a frown, and Bruce smirked, ready to say something, when the Joker reached beside him, pulling on the severed arm that Bruce has passed early. He tossed it onto the sidewalk with a sick grin. “He loves me.”

Bruce lost it again. He charged him, threw his body weight into him and forced him onto the ground. The Joker laughed, that sick screeching sound and pushed his knees up, forcing Bruce off of him. He rolled past the arm, and Bruce reached for his leg, grabbing him by the ankle, gauntlet closing on the pale naked flesh as his pant leg rode up, and tugged him back. The Joker rolled onto his stomach, grasping at the jagged pieces of pavement and pushing his backside into the air.

“Enjoying the view, Batsy baby?” Bruce crawled up his leg, imagining shoving that face into the pavement and ripping that ugly skin-mask off. He doesn’t realize that the Joker had stopped pulling away, but it letting Bruce crawl up onto of him, until he is laying underneath the vigilante, Bruce filling in all the curves of his body. He buries a hand in the Joker’s hair and the madman laughs.

“Oh _baby_ ,” he said, pushing his ass up directly into Bruce’s groin, “Mmm, you play _so rough_ cupcake, it just drives a girl mad!” He cackled and Bruce though of shoving that face into the pavement, but the clown pushed up against him again, and his hips responded, grinding into him, even if the suit prevented him from feeling much of anything.

The Joker gasped then, green eyes going wide, as if he hadn’t expected him to actually do that. He braced himself on the ground and shoved up brutally, jarring Bruce and throwing him to the side. He rolled, landed on his back, and the Joker sprang on him, straddling his hips and splaying his hands on his torso, biting one fleshy dead lip.

“I’d rather do it, ah, like _thisss_ ,” he said, slowly leaning over Bruce, drawling almost. Bruce can see the pale skin of his neck and chest, would be able to feel his hair tickling his forehead if he hadn’t had the cowl on. The Joker has frozen so close Bruce can see the muscle behind his flesh, and he wonders what it _feels_ like, how different it feels to actually have muscle touch him without flesh acting as a barrier.

“Batsy,” the Joker called, drawing Bruce back to his thoughts. He’s got one hand braced on the pavement, the other digging into his breast pocket, pulling out one silky yellow petal. “He loves me,” he said, dropping it on Bruce’s forehead, and when he laughs Bruce isn’t sure if he should believe him or not.


End file.
